At Flomaton, or Pensacola Junction, as it is now called, he had fallen in with Tom Byrne, an Indiana boy, and the two had soon become fast friends.
By getting occasional jobs along the way, and not infrequently “tramping it,” they had reached their present quarters, near Panasofkee, in Sumter County.
Here they had taken a contract from a “papertown” proprietor to clear five acres of land for seventy-five dollars.
This was a low figure, as the ground was full of palmetto roots, and not only were the trees to be cleared from the land, but all stumps to be burned out.
The boys already had been at work over two months, and hoped that another week would complete the job. On the first, their employer was to commence gathering his oranges, and they expected several weeks’ employment with him.
Although the work of clearing was very hard, the boys were rugged and hearty, and thoroughly enjoyed their novel surroundings.
After finishing their beans, they put away the few dishes, and began the round of their stumps. Here and there one was dying out, and new fuel had to be piled around it. As one stump burned out, it was dragged from its hole and placed against the roots of another.
And so, from one stump to another, adding fuel to this or dragging that away, their faces covered with soot, and looking more like negroes than white folks, the boys darted around, shouting gleefully to each other whenever one of the tall pines burned through and came crashing to the ground.
A little to one side, and out of reach of the fires, the boys had built a little six-by-ten shanty, where they kept their belongings and occasionally slept. More frequently, however, they slung their hammock between two pines, near the camp-fire.
At first, the peculiar roar of the alligators from the swamp near by had disturbed their rest, but they very soon got accustomed to it, and also to the startling challenge of a large bat, which is apt to frighten strangers by its sudden appearance and shrill cry.